Return of a Champion
by AkaiNagi
Summary: Centuries later, the direct descendent of Alice Kingsley, now serving on the USS Enterprise, is called on to aid Underland. Unfortunately, a few other people get sucked along for the ride. Data/Tasha, Tarrant/OFC.
1. Prologue

Return of a Champion (Prologue)  
Author: **akainagi** (conceptual credit to **chrismata1976**)  
Rating: PG  
Genre: Star Trek: The Next Generation/Alice in Wonderland crossover  
Pairings: Tarrant/T'Lara, Data/Tasha  
Summary: Centuries later, the direct descendent of Alice Kingsley, now serving on the USS Enterprise, is called on to aid Underland. Unfortunately, a few other people get sucked along for the ride.

As nightmares went, this one was illogical in the extreme.

She found herself battling an enormous winged beast. Dressed in shining armor and wielding a gleaming sword it was like a caricature of those things humans love so much … what were they called? Ah, yes, fairy tales. Typical stereotypes of good versus evil designed to teach human children morals without bothering with the inconveniences of logic.

And her opponent certainly looked evil. The huge lizard like creature chased her up a spiraling set of crumbling stone steps. Steps leading to nowhere. While below her a battle raged between fantastical creatures. Rabbits and mice and humans and dogs and playing cards wielding spears and swords and hatpins went furiously at each other.

She drew her attention back to her own foe. The vile creature snapped and slashed at her with its claws, hell-bent on a taste of her blood. She parried and thrust with her sword, driving the creature back momentarily. She had never wielded a sword in her life, but the gleaming silver blade in her hand seemed to be moving almost of its own accord, guiding her hand and body in its movements. She began racing up the steps again, the creature hot on her heels. She battled against the icy grip of terror that threatened to take hold of her senses

Why was she doing this? This was her dream. She could simply throw down her sword and run away. But she couldn't. Some part of her, some voice that didn't even seem to be part of herself insisted that she must _fight_. And not just fight, but she must _win_. So many were counting on her. _He,_ was counting on her. Who they and he were she didn't know. But every fiber of her being screamed that this was _her fight_, _her destiny_.

She had little time to ruminate on it. For she was at the top. She had run out of stairs and now she was faced with the beast with nowhere to run. In a desperate move she attacked, leaping at the great creature and suddenly she found herself airborne, tossed in the air by the beast as effortlessly as a child tosses a rubber ball.

From somewhere inside her a voice that sounded nothing like her own cried out in triumph. And then there was the gruesome sound and feel of the sword slicing through the neck of the beast, beheading it in a single stroke. The body, now headless, fell with a thud. The head rolled and bounced its way down the stone steps, coming to rest at the bottom, where all fighting had ceased. All eyes were on her.

It was then that she felt it. Out of all the assembled throng, one pair of eyes bored into her with the intensity of a phaser blast. She found them easily. They practically drew her like a magnet. The eyes were green and luminous and filled with emotion. The owner of those eyes was oddly dressed, wearing a blue coat and what looked like a plaid skirt. He had a wild shock of red hair topped off by a tall hat.

But even with such strange attire what was most memorable about him were those green eyes. She felt the emotion coming off the man in waves as his gaze remained on her. There was pride. So much pride one could become drunk on it. And affection so boundless and deep it made her heart ache. The man was smiling. And from her vantage point, towering above him, she could see his lips parting and forming a single word. One she had heard before, in many dreams, in many different contexts. Now, as ever, it filled her with a sense of exhilaration and dread.

"Alice."

Lieutenant T'Lara Kingsley awoke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest. That name. Alice. It kept coming up over and over in her dreams. As did the mad looking man with the burning green eyes, wild red hair and the tall, tattered hat. Every time he looked at her, even in dreams, it was like he was looking straight into her, seeing the whole of her existence in a single glimpse. Everything she wanted to keep hidden. It was a feeling that was unsettling in the extreme.

The computer began its shrill tone, signaling her it was time to stop thinking about her nocturnal misadventures and hurry up and shower before she was late for her shift.

~*~*~*~

Lieutenant Commander Tasha Yar sat in her bedroom armchair, having given up on sleeping long ago. She absentmindedly petted the cat which snoozed contentedly on her lap. Bizarre dreams surfaced every time she closed her eyes. The most frustrating part was, she was unable to remember them after she woke. Sure, she caught glimpses here and there, but they were disjointed snippets: a tall man in a hat, a beautiful woman in white with a crown atop her head, a huge white palace surrounded by green. It was like something out of a holo-novel.

Her eyes were drawn to their bed, where her lover, the lucky so-and-so was still sleeping. He mumbled something in his sleep, but didn't waken. Apparently his dream program included talking in his sleep. He had been doing that a lot lately, much to Tasha's annoyance. At least he did it quietly. Sometimes she caught the words, but more often than not, when she did it was nonsense.

She had mentioned her nocturnal problems to Data. He had listened attentively as usual, but in the end his only suggestion had been that she visit Dr. Crusher if she was having trouble sleeping. Dr. Crusher couldn't cure her weird dreams, she had told him. Then he suggested she visit Counselor Troi, an idea that Tasha wasn't quite keen on. Data urged her to see someone, concerned that a sleep deprived Chief of Security was a liability to herself. He was always concerned for her. But unlike lovers before him he knew the fine like to tread between concern for her and accepting the responsibilities and hazards of her chosen profession. A profession she did well and was proud of. That was one of the many ways he was unlike the lovers that came before him

It had started out as a casual, secretive (at her insistence), purely physical relationship. An experiment in human-android relations she had jokingly called it once. Two years later, the much less casual, no longer secretive relationship was still going strong. So much so that they were fairly cohabitating.

She scratched Spot behind the ears and the cat purred contentedly. She sighed. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that put her in such a reflective mood. When exactly had the armchair in his bedroom, her favorite one to sit on, become "hers?" When had his bed become "theirs?" When had she, such a private person allowed herself to become so emotionally enmeshed with the man sleeping in the bed a few feet away? She had never had a lover before him she couldn't live without.

But could she live without him now?

Her reverie was interrupted by the tinny sound of the computer's alarm, telling them both that it was nearly time to go on shift. The light's came on automatically.

Data's eyes opened and he sat bolt upright in bed. Tasha would never get used to the way he woke up, no matter how long they were together. It was so unlike the lazy way that most people awoke.

He looked over at her, still sitting in her chair, spot still curled up in her lap, not disturbed in the least by the alarm. "You are still not sleeping?"

She shook her head. "I slept most of the night. I just woke up too early."

"You are still having the dreams?"

"Mmm." She made a noise of assent.

"You should see Counselor Troi," he repeated.

Tasha got up before she started getting a lecture. The cat leapt to the floor and sauntered off, none too pleased that its comfy seat had been taken away. "I will, I will. I just haven't gotten around to it." She made her way to the bathroom. "I get first shower." She called back over her shoulder, "That is unless you'd like to join me?"

Tasha was pleased to find he went for option number two.


	2. Chapter 1

**Return of a Champion (Chapter 1)**  
Author: **akainagi** (conceptual credit to **chrismata1976**)  
Rating: PG  
Genre: Star Trek: The Next Generation/Alice in Wonderland crossover  
Pairings: Tarrant/T'Lara, Data/Tasha  
Summary: Centuries later, the direct descendent of Alice Kingsley, now serving on the USS Enterprise, is called on to aid Underland. Unfortunately, a few other people get sucked along for the ride.

By T'Lara's calculations, she was en route to be at her workstation at precisely 0700, if she was not delayed any further.

It had not been a smooth morning. It had started with the dreams again. They always left her feeling unsettled; not a way she wanted to start her day. Then her sonic shower had malfunctioned. By the time she had diagnosed and fixed the problem and managed to get showered, her customary cushion of time had evaporated, leaving her fortunate to get down to engineering without being tardy. Tardiness was unprofessional and not befitting her rank or her nature.

She made her way to the turbolift; her short, quick stride spoke much about her character; precise, measured, uniform and purposeful with no wasted movement.

She reached the turbolift and ordered the computer to take her to engineering. The doors were about to close when-

"Hold the lift please!" a female voice called out.

"Hold Turbolift," T'Lara ordered. Now she was definitely going to be late. She was on good terms with her commanding officer, so she had no doubt it would be overlooked, but it still rankled her that she didn't keep to her own schedule.

She found herself joined by two of the command staff. She stood at attention to greet them. "Lieutenant Commanders."

They both responded in turn, Lieutenant Commander Yar smiling and Lieutenant Commander Data addressing her by name.

T'Lara barely noticed because her senses were assaulted by the overwhelming scent of sex pheromones. Clearly the two officers, who were well known to be what her human coworkers colloquially referred to as "an item," had been participating in sexual congress a short time ago. It was mostly Yar who gave off the overwhelming odor, although some of her pheromones could be detected on her android partner as well. This clear evidence of the act of mating brought up memories and thoughts that she would rather stay buried, and she was relieved when they reached her destination and she was able to get out of the cramped space that reeked of sex.

As it was she reached her work station 32 seconds late and thoroughly out of sorts. On the outside she projected her same placid half-Vulcan demeanor, but on the inside she was … unnerved. She sat at her station, determined to immerse herself in work. Her current assignment was one given to her by Chief LaForge himself, researching the rotation of power cells fed by the warp core and how they might be used to boost engine efficiency. A truly intellectually stimulating and worthy task, one that might also help her stand out to her commanding officer.

But the scent of pheromones was still in her nostrils, the name "Alice" was still in her ears and the figure of a tall man in a tall hat still flirted with the edges of her consciousness. Even using the Vulcan controls she had exercised since childhood did not completely allow her to focus.

It was truly an embarrassing moment when, halfway through the day, Chief LaForge himself pulled her aside to ask if anything was bothering her. Had her inattention been so apparent? A green blush rose to her cheeks at the public acknowledgement of her failure.

"My apologies, Chief LaForge. I find I am somewhat … distracted … today. I shall endeavor to focus more on the task at hand. "

The Chief made it clear that he didn't mean it as criticism. He was concerned.

T'Lara fervently wished that the chief had curbed his so called concern, rather than dragging her failure as a Vulcan out into the open and rubbing her face in it. After assuring him again that she was fine, she went back to her workstation and dove back into her work, viciously squashing the unwanted thoughts and the unwanted emotions they produced.

By the time she went off-shift she felt she had redeemed herself somewhat. She had spent the latter half of the day running simulations that had yielded promising results. As early as tomorrow, perhaps she could have results that were concrete enough to show the Chief. She would show him that he had picked the right crewman to conduct such important research.

Despite her optimism, she was exhausted. Using her mental controls as often and as vigilantly as she had was draining. She headed for the turbolift thinking about a soothing sonic shower and the comfort of her bed, which hopefully would not yield up any more disturbing dreams tonight.

Her day, unfortunately, had not stopped tormenting her just yet.

The turbolift doors opened to reveal Lieutenant Commanders Data and Yar. Again. At least this time they weren't reeking of pheromones. Having no excuse not to, she joined the two officers in the turbolift, greeting them respectfully. She was greeted in return, Yar again smiling warmly at her. T'Lara couldn't quite bring herself to look the other woman in the eyes, not after this morning.

As the turbolift started moving, T'Lara's uneasiness intensified. Not because of anything to do with the two officers she found herself sharing the small space with, but because she suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of _presence_. The feeling grew in intensity until she concluded that it could not be just her imagination. She was about to say something to Lieutenant Commander Data –

The lift stopped.

The three passengers looked at each other.

"Computer, restart turbolift," Yar ordered.

Nothing.

The presence was so strong it was practically in the turbolift with them. "Lieutenant Commander Data," T'Lara interjected. "I believe we are not the only ones in this lift. I sense a presence-"

A disembodied voice wafted on a nonexistent breeze:

_They told me you had been to her,  
And mentioned me to him:  
She gave me a good character,  
But said I could not swim._

T'Lara watched a scowl take over Lieutenant Commander Yar's face. "I know that voice."

_He sent them word I had not gone  
(We know it to be true):  
If she should push the matter on,  
What would become of you?_

Data, who had reached into his vast store of memories, furnished the name of the owner. "It would appear to be Q. The passage he is reciting is by Lewis Carroll."

"Right you are, my mechanical friend!" the voice cried merrily.

With disturbing speed the walls of the turbolift melted away, followed by the ceiling and the floor to reveal an autumnal forest. But rather than brilliant reds and yellows everything had a brown, aged cast to it. And in the middle of it all, stood Q. Smiling widely, he spread his arms in welcome.

"Well, what do you think?" the omnipotent creature asked. "I'll admit its seen better days, but let me be the first to welcome the Champion back to Underland."

T'Lara had heard of Q from other crewmembers. She had never been aboard when the Enterprise had encountered him in the past. The one thing she had gleaned is that he usually came with trouble.

A scowl affixed itself to Yar's face. "Q, what the hell do you want from us?"

"I suppose complete and utter silence from you would be too much to ask for?" Q shot back.

"Send us back. Now," Yar growled.

Q advanced on the glaring blonde. "Oh, you're just still grumpy over that whole human popsicle incident."

Moving faster than T'Lara could follow, Data interjected himself between the Security Chief and her omnipotent nemesis.

"I must also ask, Q," Data queried in his usual placid tone, "why have you brought us here?"

"First, let me express to you my sincere disappointment in your taste in women," Q said.

"The Lieutenant Commander and my relationship is not at issue." Data replied. "What is at issue is why you have taken us from the Enterprise and brought us to this place."

"Underland. This place is called Underland. And you are here to assist in the saving of this world. You are the supporting cast, shall we say." Q redirected his attention from the two officers to T'Lara, who had hung back, observing the exchange with interest. "You, my little half-Vulcan crumpet, you are the Star. Or, rather, the _Champion_."

T'Lara arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And what, may I ask, qualifies me to be a champion?"

Q disappeared in a flash, only to reappear directly behind T'Lara. She gave a start and spun around, quickly backing away from the alien.

"The blood that runs in your veins makes you the Champion. The soul that resides inside you makes you the Champion. It is foretold in the Oraculum. You will save Underland." Q cast an eye to Data and Yar, "with some assistance from them." Q broke into a grin. "Well, Data mainly. Actually, I'm not quite sure we need the sour faced security chief. What's say we send her back?"

"No way, Q. Data stays, I stay. Period." Yar declared. Data stared at her, an unreadable look in his eyes.

"Well, she's a loyal dog, I'll give you that much," Q told Data.

Tasha put on a smirk of her own. "Y'know, Q, remember that time you were stripped of your powers and booted out of the continuum. I really miss those days."

Q was unmoved by the taunting. He addressed T'Lara. "Now, Champion. I suggest you make haste to the castle at Marmoreal. Explanations and surprises await you there. Head to the East and you will find it. Although it's not quite the place it used to be."

Before the eyes of the three crewmembers, Q's body began growing dim, then transparent.

"You might want to hurry, though. _Time_ is something of an issue."

T'Lara realized she was rapidly losing her opportunity to protest this scenario. "I do not know what leads you to believe it so, but I am not your Champion"

Q's face, the only part of him left, let out a hearty laugh. "_She_ said the same thing."

"Who did?" T'Lara asked.

"The one who is part of you," Q replied cryptically. His face proceeded to disappear until only his mouth was left. It broadened into a grin as it recited:

_I gave her one, they gave him two,  
You gave us three or more:  
They all returned from him to you,  
Though they were mine before._

If I or she should chance to be  
Involved in this affair,  
He trusts to you to set them free,  
Exactly as they were.

And then even the smile was gone, leaving the three crewmembers to ruminate on their lot, and decide their fate; strangers in a strange land.


	3. Chapter 2

**Return of a Champion (Chapter 2)**  
Author: AkaiNagi (conceptual credit to chrismata1976)  
Rating: PG-13  
Genre: Star Trek: The Next Generation/Alice in Wonderland crossover  
Pairings: Tarrant/T'Lara, Data/Tasha  
Summary: Centuries later, the direct descendent of Alice Kingsley, now serving on the USS Enterprise, is called on to aid Underland. Unfortunately, a few other people get sucked along for the ride.

It's not that Queen Mirana was unsympathetic to the pleas of her old friend the Hatter; she simply saw them for what they really were.

Her friend, hero of the revolution, the most gifted milliner Underland had ever seen, wanted to die.

He was mad, but not stupid. He hid his true intentions well. He had been the one to awaken the sleeping beast and cause it to wreak havoc through Underland. He begged the Queen for a chance to put things right. To allow him to take on the beast himself.

She flatly forbade it. He was not the Champion, she told him in kind yet firm voice which brooked no arguments to the contrary. She pointed out to him, not unkindly, that he was not the spry figure of his youth. Thanks to his interfering with time once too often, the vengeful beast had aged him. His brilliant shock of red hair was now streaked with grey, and the shock of being thrown into middle-age all at once had done nothing to improve his already mad state. He was no match for the beast which was now tearing Underland asunder. It would make short work of him.

We must wait for the Champion, she told him. The one who would save them all. The one who was foretold in the Oraculum. She would come and put Underland to rights.

That had put the Hatter in a right foul mood. For him, there would be no other Champion but Alice, and he had grown grey waiting for her return. He despaired. And when the madness took him he raged, calling out her name so that it echoed through the halls of Marmoreal.

The day that he came and asked Mirana to make him the champion, to let him lead a hopeless fight for Underland's future, she knew that he had finally given up hope.

And when his hope died, he wished to follow it.

~*~*~*~*~

Tasha was in as foul a mood as Data had ever seen her. He had grown adept at Tasha-reading over the last several years. On the outside she was calm (if overly silent) professionalism. But the set of her jaw and the flash in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

She was pissed.

Q tended to have that effect on her. And they had good reason to be pessimistic, he supposed. They were on a strange world, without so much as a phaser of a tricorder between them. They knew nothing about the land which they now traveled, heading eastward through the forest per Q's instructions. It was a sickly looking land, with most of the flora browning and dead. A thick carped of dead leaves coated the forest floor, crunching as the trio walked.

Data processed and reprocessed the clues Q had given them. A verse from _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and a world called Underland. He calculated that there was about a 0.9% chance that was a coincidence. References to a Champion. But in what context? There were several definitions of the term: 1 : warrior, fighter, 2 : a militant advocate or defender, 3 : one that does battle for another's rights or honor, 4 : a winner of first prize or first place in competition, 5 : one who shows marked superiority. In many senses it was odd that the least militarily capable among them should be referred to as a warrior. So perhaps she would be expected to participate in a competition of some kind?

But Q had also referred to T'Lara as one that was foretold in the Oraculum, a Latin term meaning, among other things, a prophetic declaration or prophecy. Perhaps learning more about T'Lara herself might yield up some connection.

"Lieutenant T'Lara."

"Sir?" she responded.

"Have you any knowledge of why Q would call you 'Champion?'" he asked with his usual directness.

"None at all, Sir." She answered just as directly.

Data had suspected as much. "Q claims you are A Champion foretold by prophecy. In the interest of endeavoring to learn why, would you tell us about yourself? Perhaps there is something in your past which would shed light on our current predicament."

T'Lara's face remained impassive. "I doubt it will yield any pertinent information, but very well. My full name is T'Lara Kingsley of the clan of Senir. My mother is Vulcan; T'sei of the Clan of Senir. My father was human by the name of Kirk Kingsley. I was raised on Vulcan by my mother after my father chose to return to Earth. He later died there. I joined Starfleet against my mother's wishes at age 25. She and I have not spoken in 4.7 standard years. I have few paternal relatives."

"You are bonded?" Data asked bluntly.

Tasha finally interjected, "Data, that's kind of a personal question."

T'Lara shook her head, "It is of no consequence. No I am not. I was bonded per Vulcan tradition at a young age, but my mate was killed in a transporter accident ten years ago. My mother wished me to find a new bondmate as soon as possible to carry on the family line. I felt my path lay in another direction."

"Starfleet." Tasha stated.

"Affirmative." T'Lara replied. "I can think of no reason why we have been brought here other that Q's obviously capricious personality."

Data processed all this information. As the Vulcan had surmised, there seemed to be nothing that connected her to their current straits.

They walked in silence for a time, each minding their own thoughts. It was not an overly pleasant trek. The air was hot and heavy and stagnant. The smell of rotting leaves filled the air. Data, with his superior vision, spied a clearing up ahead.

"We will rest in this clearing before continuing." He was cognizant of the fact that his biological companions did not have the stamina with which he was gifted. Tasha's shoulders were slumped with weariness, which meant she was well and truly taxed. They had been walking for several hours straight.

When they reached the strange clearing they both turned to T'Lara, who gave an involuntary gasp.

"I know this place," she told her two superiors. Her cool Vulcan façade was replaced momentarily by a look of wonderment. "I've dreamt of this place."

Before them stretched the chessboard on which T'Lara had witnessed the great battle of her dreams. And there were the stairs on which she had fought and beheaded the gruesome creature.

"Intriguing." Data said simply.

"Wait," Tasha said disbelievingly. "You saw this place in your dreams?"

T'Lara nodded. "Yes. It was the site of a great battle. There was a reptilian creature which I was tasked with slaying."

"And did you?" Data asked.

"Yes." T'Lara replied as she approached the base of the imposing staircase. "I beheaded it at the top of these stairs. And then the battle stopped. And there was a man. He called me Alice. And then I woke up."

That got Data's full attention. "He called you Alice? You are sure?"

"Quite."

"The passage Q recited to us earlier was from a book by a nineteenth century Earth author named Lewis Carroll," Data informed his female companions. "The book he wrote was called _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_."

Tasha frowned. "And now Wonderland is Underland. Why do I get the feeling Q is just jerking us around."

Data was forced to admit the possibility. "Perhaps," he replied. "T'Lara, please tell us more about your dream. There may be other details that are significant."

So T'Lara began to replay her dream in as much detail as she could remember. Both women sat on the steps of the spiral staircase as she told of the battle between men and beasts, of white and red, of her battle with the reptilian creature. When she reached the part about the man in the tall hat who called her Alice, it was Tasha's turn to give a gasp of shock.

"Was he pale with red hair and green eyes?" she asked urgently.

T'Lara's own eyes widened in surprise. "Yes. How do you know this?"

Tasha frowned the way she always did when she was concentrating very hard on something. "I've seen him in my dreams. I've also seen a woman in white with a crown, and a white castle with a checkerboard lawn."

"Intriguing," Data interjected. "I have experienced seeing a white castle during my own dream cycles as well."

Tasha's frown deepened. "Well, there's only one explanation for it."

"Which is?" T'Lara asked.

"That bastard Q's been messing with all our heads." She growled.

"Perhaps," Data said. "It would explain the similarities in our dreams. For now I suggest we continue to this place Q called 'The Castle at Marmoreal.' It may indeed be the castle from our dreams."

The trio continued on to the east, T'Lara taking one last look at the chessboard with its staircase to nowhere.

T'Lara spent the next two hours of walking taking in her surroundings, looking for anything else that might jog her memory. The one thing she did notice was that the sun in this land moved very slowly. By her calculations it had barely moved at all and nearly six hours had passed. It still shone directly overhead. The heat from the sun did not bother her. It didn't even approach the heat of midday on Vulcan. But she could tell her human counterpart was suffering from it. Sweat stood out on Yar's forehead in beads, which she routinely wiped away with the back of her hand. Her respect for the Security Chief rose a few notches. She knew some of her human shipmates who would be whining and begging for a rest after an hour in these conditions. Yar, however, faced her situation with stoicism worthy of a Vulcan.

She watched Data subtly approach his mate and ask her in a low voice (but not so low that keen Vulcan ears couldn't hear) if she needed a rest. She heard Yar's whispered denial and insistence that they continue. Data acquiesced, but T'Lara could see he was keeping a watchful eye on her condition.

Lieutenant Commanders Data and Yar's relationship was a hot topic of conversation even among the junior crewmembers. She remembered two of her female crewmates expressing disgust that the Security Chief would lower herself to, as they put it, "screw that walking computer." T'Lara remembered wondering if the crewman who uttered that statement realized its inherent irony, not to mention bigotry. Which was worse, T'Lara had been tempted to ask the mouthy woman, having a stable relationship spanning years with a walking computer, or jumping into a new bed every week as that particular crewmate was rumored to do.

She was startled out of her reverie by Data's announcement that they were approaching another clearing at the top of the ridge, where they would rest.

All three stood wide-eyed at the top of the ridge.

Below them, in the valley, stood a multi-spired, enormous white castle. It didn't look exactly like the castle they had all pictured in their dreams. The lawn and gardens, like the forest, was brown and decayed looking. Even the brilliant white of the castle looked dingy with age.

"Marmoreal," Tasha said in a slightly awestruck voice. "What do you want to bet this is where I find the white queen from my dreams?"

T'Lara didn't say it, but she wondered if this was where they would find the man with the glowing green eyes. The one with the tall hat. The one who had looked at her so proudly in her dreams. The one who called her "Alice."

The three began making their way down the long path that led over a bridge and to the Palace entrance. The Path was so long it took them nearly another half an hour to reach the palace proper. There they found themselves stopped by two guards in white armor, each of them wielding a very sharp looking spear which they used to bar the travelers' way.

"What business have 'ye at the palace?" asked one of the guards.

Tasha fairly bristled at the sight of the armed men, and, not for the first time, cursed the fact that she had no phaser.

Data, diplomatic as ever, replied, "We request an audience with your ruler."

The guard scoffed. "The Queen has no time for commoners such as 'ye."

Data set his positronic brain to working on a different approach. Yes, that might work.

"Tell the Queen the Champion has arrived."

Both guards' eyes went wide at the statement. "Truly?" one of them asked hopefully.

Data gestured to T'Lara, "We bring the Champion to the Queen; surely she will grant the Champion an audience?"

The guards fell all over each other in fits of apology. One of them escorted the trio inside the palace, through twisting halls that were, not surprisingly, white.

They reached a set of enormous doors and the guard told them to wait while he announced them to the Queen.

T'Lara, for all her calm Vulcan demeanor on the outside, was cursing the fact that Data had introduced her as the Champion. Whatever prophecies these people believed, she was champion of nothing. Clearly Data had only thought at far as getting them in to see the Queen, who could hopefully provide an explanation as to why they were here.

The guard stepped aside and ushered them into an enormous throne room. At the head of the room sat an ornate throne, and on that ornate throne sat the Queen. T'Lara could tell from the look of recognition on Yar's face that this was the queen from her dreams. She was probably the most aesthetically pleasing human T'Lara had ever seen. She had golden hair and delicate features, and was garbed in a shining white gown.

The queen immediately rose and came down from the dais. She looked first at Data, then Tasha, and then as her eyes settled on T'Lara she let out a soft gasp. "Oh, my dear, you do look so much like her." She approached T'Lara with hope in her eyes and a beneficent smile on her lips.

T'Lara didn't know why, but the gracious demeanor and soft dulcet tones of the Queen set her at ease. "Who, may I ask, do I look so much like?"

"Why, Alice, of course," the Queen replied. "She was the Champion before you. She led us to victory in the great revolution. But alas she left and never returned to us. But now you are here. You are the Champion foretold in the Oraculum. You will save Underland from the beast that is tearing our dear land apart. You will lead us to victory on Uhrturm Day."

T'Lara was outwardly unmoved. "I believe you are mistaken, Your Majesty. I am an Engineer by training and trade. A scientist. I am no warrior. I am not your Champion."

The Queen let out a soft laugh. "Alice said the same thing when I first met her. And she proved herself wrong." She stepped back and took in the sight of the three travelers. "But my manners escape me. You must be tired, hungry, thirsty. I can see you have traveled far. I will show you to your rooms so you may rest and refresh yourselves. Tomorrow is early enough to speak of these things. Come."

T'Lara and Tasha looked to Data, as the ranking officer, for their cue. When he followed the Queen without argument, they did the same.

When the doors to the throne room parted they revealed a lone figure, obviously waiting for an audience. When T'Lara saw who it was, she stopped dead in her tracks. The hair was graying at the edges, the face had many more lines than in her dreams, but there was no mistaking that silhouette. Or those green eyes that bored into her. It was like the rest of the room fell away and it was only him and her and that gaze that seemed to see straight into her.

"Alice?"

With greater speed than she thought a human to possess, he was before her in an instant. And when he grabbed her hand with his own it was like she was assaulted with a thousand emotions, each radiating with the strength of a small sun. Hope, fear, excitement, bottomless sorrow and boundless love bombarded her consciousness. She could not even find the strength to pull away, the shock to her senses was so great. The last thing she saw before she passed out was those eyes, glowing with a mad brilliance, and the last thing she felt was a sadness so great it seemed without end.


	4. Chapter 3

**Return of a Champion (Chapter 3)**  
Author: **akainagi** (conceptual credit to **chrismata1976**)  
Rating: PG-13  
Genre: Star Trek: The Next Generation/Alice in Wonderland crossover  
Pairings: Tarrant/T'Lara, Data/Tasha  
Summary: Centuries later, the direct descendent of Alice Kingsley, now serving on the USS Enterprise, is called on to aid Underland. Unfortunately, a few other people get sucked along for the ride.

Tarrant had arrived at the throne room, ready to plead his case to the Queen again. If she would just let him battle the beast himself. He would best the monster or die trying. Either way he might find some modicum of peace.

The Queen was just leaving the throne room with three of the most strangely dressed people he had ever laid eyes on, and he had seen some hideous outfits. But what drew his complete attention was not the fashion _faux pas_.

It was her. Before he could think, before he could even consider the fact that he was in error, he was beside her, taking that beautiful, delicately boned hand he had last held hundreds of years ago. It had to be her. The face was the same, she was the same perfect Alice-size, her hair was the same mass of curls, although darker than he remembered it.

His emotions overwhelmed him, as they so often were wont to do. And it was the strangest thing. When he held her hand it was like he could feel what she was feeling. This, more than anything else convinced him of his grave mistake.

She was terrified of him.

He watched in horror as she convulsed and collapsed to the ground at his touch. Her hair fell away into a halo around her and he could see that the woman's ears tapered to a delicate point. Her skin had a green tint to it that could be a sign of her malady or could be her natural coloring.

His heart, as fast as it had soared, sank even more quickly.

With a hasty apology he took off down the hall of the palace, the roar of madness so loud in his ears that he didn't hear the queen calling after him. He fairly ran to his workshop, locked himself inside, and proceeded to visit destruction on anything and everything he could lay hand to, including himself. Cloth was ripped, hats were squashed flat, thread and feathers flew everywhere. The scissors didn't get thrown, though. The scissors he saved for himself, running them across his hands with an agonizing slowness. This pain. This was what he deserved. He had doomed Underland with his selfish actions. And now he had mistaken another for his beloved Alice, dishonoring her memory.

He deserved this pain.

~*~*~*~*~

Data easily scooped up the petite half-Vulcan and followed Queen Mirana to the three adjoining rooms that were to be their quarters during their stay. Data gently laid the prostrate form of T'Lara in the bed, and, taking off her boots for her, announced that he would keep watch over her until she awoke. She did not appear to be in any serious condition. Her breathing was normal and even. The encounter with the man named Tarrant must have simply been too much emotion for her touch-telepath's mind to take.

So Tasha and Queen Mirana left him to keep watch over his subordinate. Had it been just Tasha, he would have liked to kiss her goodnight, he thought idly. He always enjoyed kissing her, and it would be a welcome act of normalcy in a day that had been anything but.

~*~*~*~*~

Tasha couldn't help herself. After they left T'Lara's room, she voiced the question that had been eating at her ever since she saw him in the flesh.

"Your Majesty," she began. "Who was that man in the hat?"

The Queen sighed, a somber look coming over her face. "His name is Tarrant Hightopp, although some at court refer to him simply as 'The Mad Hatter."'

"Mad Hatter?"

The Queen nodded. "Yes. He is a milliner by trade. A maker of hats and clothes. The finest in all Underland. He is the last of his clan. They were all murdered by order of the previous queen. Since then he has been quite mad."

Tasha's eyes widened. An entire clan wiped out? The previous Queen must have been a terrible despot.

"Of course he is far worse since Alice left us," the Queen continued. "He loved her so dearly, she was like a part of him. But she chose to leave and go back to her own world, promising to return."

"But she never did?" Tasha asked

"No," the Queen shook her head sadly. "Now every day his madness seems to take over more and more of him. He is one of my oldest and dearest friends. It hurts my heart to see him suffer so. Please understand that he didn't mean to hurt the young lady. And please don't hold this against him. For a moment, I'm quite sure he thought that Alice had finally come back to him."

"I don't intend to hold a grudge. I can only speak for myself, though," Tasha replied.

The Queen smiled weakly. "I understand. Now I will let you get some rest."

"May I ask one more thing before you go, Your Majesty?"

"Of course," the Queen replied.

"How long are the days in this land? It's been daylight for over twelve hours, and it doesn't look like it's going to get dark anytime soon."

The monarch sighed. "Time is a touchy subject these days. One that is best addressed tomorrow, once you are all refreshed. I shall have the kitchen make you all something to eat and have it brought to you."

Tasha thanked the Queen and watched her depart gracefully down the hall. She opened the door to her room. It was elegantly furnished with a large bed, similar to the one T'Lara was sleeping in right now.

As Tasha investigated her room she realized it had an adjoining bathroom, and someone had already pre-drawn a steaming hot bath in anticipation of her arrival. She had always been a proponent of the more efficient sonic showers, but she was in noposition to be picky. She lowered herself slowly into the steaming water. It was nigh-on blissful. Tasha didn't think had ever enjoyed a good soap and water cleansing as much as she did at this moment. She even scrubbed her hear for good measure.

Emerging reluctantly from the bath, she dried herself off and put on the white linen nightclothes that had been left on the bed, presumably for her use. She was just in time to answer the knock at the door. It was one of the palace guards bringing her a steaming bowl of stew. Gods, she was famished. She made short work of the meal. It was delicious.

Once finished, she went over and sat by the window, looking out over the dead and dying landscape. Hopefully tomorrow they would find out exactly what T'Lara's task as supposed Champion would entail, and what part she and Data would play in this farce.

Tasha found this all too much to swallow. Champions slaying beasts, Mad Hatters, queens and castles. It certainly smacked of Q's penchant for melodrama. But the longer it dragged on, the less sure she was that this was merely the obnoxious alien's entertainment. The people here seemed so _real_.

Speaking of Q …

What had possessed her to insist on staying in this place? Q had offered to send her back to the Enterprise. Sure, she could pretend that she stayed as a Security Chief; to stay and protect her superior, the Second in Command of the Enterprise. But she knew that was bullshit.

It had been a serious lapse in judgement, one that Data hadn't corrected her on. She should have returned to the Enterprise immediately and informed the captian of Q's latest foray into kidnapping Starfleet personell.

A rebelious voice in her mind told her she had simply not wanted to be separated from Data. That she did not want to be sent back to the Enterprise to wait and wonder if he was ever coming back. Like the Mad Hatter waiting for his Alice. She sighed heavily and made her way over to the bed. It was as comfortable as it looked. She lay there, unable to sleep until her thought processes would shut up enough to let her do so.

She had always prided herself on being independent. On being strong. On being able to stand on her own two feet without the support of anyone. And now she was here, stuck in a strange fantasy world because she had made the wrong choice between protocol and her lover.

_Amazing_," she thought as she frowned at the ceiling. She had effectively lived with the android for two years. And she had failed to realize how attached she was until someone threatened (literally) to take him away. Even now she was wishing he was there in the bed beside her, because she had gotten so used to him over the years that him not being there just seemed _wrong_ somehow.

Oh, the irony. What she had intended to be a sexual, uncomplicated relationship had turned into the love of her life to date. And what was worse, she wasn't sure if he did, or even could, love her back.

The sun never really did set that night, although the women slept through it nonetheless. Data preferred to stay awake that night, analyzing the day's events, even after T'Lara awoke and assured him that she was fine and just needed rest. So he went to his room and spend hours in computations and contemplations until a guard came to each door, knocking politely and announcing it was morning. In a land where the sun didn't set, he supposed they had developed a system of telling night from day by way of announcement. The guard also brought changes of clothes for each of them, courtesy of the Queen. Noting the poor state his uniform was in after their trek through the woods, he decided to take the Queen up on her offer. The simple black pants and pale grey shirt fit like they were made for him.

The next order of business was to check on the women. He went out into the hallway and knocked on Tasha's door.

"Who is it?" she called through the heavy wooden door.

"It is me."

Her voice bade him enter

He entered to find Tasha in a state of half-dress. She wore a loose linen skirt that reached her ankles and on top nothing but her bra. She hastily pulled on a diaphanous white blouse embroidered with silver flowers. In their years together he had rarely seen her in such clasically feminine attire. It lent her a softness that was more than a little appealing. She caught him staring.

"What?" she asked testily.

"You …" his positronic brain tried to think of the best way to say this that didn't come over wrong.

"What?" she repeated. "Grew a second head, have a booger hanging out of my nose, I've got bed-head, what?"

"You look lovely." He said simply.

Her scowl fell away, replaced by a sheepish half-smile. "Thanks," she replied. "And I'm sorry I'm so bitchy. Had a hard time getting to sleep."

"You are still having the dreams?"

"No," she answered. "Dreams are gone. Something was wrong with the bed."

Data looked at her, puzzled. "What was wrong with the bed?"

She walked over and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "You weren't in it."

Before he could respond she was out the door, headed to T'Lara's room. He stood there for a moment. He touched the part of his cheek that had met her lips. "Intriguing," he said to no one in particular, and with a small smile on his face, followed Tasha out into the hall.

He got to T'Lara's room just as Tasha was entering. They found T'Lara, also garbed in new clothes, sitting on the bed practicing some Vulcan meditation techniques. She wore a white dress embroidered with blue trim. She came out of her meditation and stood at attention when the two officers entered the room. "Lieutenant Commanders," she acknowledged primly.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Tasha said smoothly. "It occurs to me that we're not exactly in a situation that lends itself to command structure, so I think we can dispense with a few of the formalities." The corner's of Yar's mouth quirked into a smile. "Like the parade rest." She gestured to the other woman's rigid stance.

T'Lara looked to Data, who nodded his approved.

T'Lara smoothly transitioned into a more restful position that, for a Vulcan, was probably close to slouching. "Understood."

"Now that that's settled," Tasha said. "How are you feeling?"

"Through rest and meditation, I have been able to bring the unwanted emotions under control." T'Lara frowned, "I must apologize for my weakness."

"It's not your fault," Tasha assured her. "Queen Mirana told me all about our friend in the hat." She related what the Queen had told her about the Hatter.

"So he believed I was his missing lover." T'Lara stated. That would explain the great well pain and emptiness she had felt inside Tarrant Hightopp. Most Vulcans would consider such a display obscene. She was not most Vulcans. It rather stirred her to pity.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. It was one of the guards. "The Queen requests your presence at breakfast. I am to escort you to the dining hall."

They trio followed the guard until they reached a room with a great long table, at the head of which sat the Queen. She stood to greet them. "Data, T'Lara, Tasha, please sit by me. And don't be shy, there's plenty of food, and the tea is wonderful. We have the best cook in Underland working our kitchen." A loud crash came from the vicinity of said kitchen, and the three looked at each other warily. "Oh, that's just Thackery, our chef. He's a fantastic cook, but a bit high strung."

They took their seats at the table. T'Lara helped herself to a scone and a cup of tea. The Queen hadn't been idly boasting; the tea was very well made.

Once everyone had eaten, and was sitting sipping their tea, Data broached the subject that they were all waiting to discuss.

"Your Majesty. Will you now share with us the reason we have been brought here? Why does Underland need a Champion, and why must it be Lieutenant T'Lara?"

"Very well," the Queen said solemnly. She caught the attention of one of the guards by the door. "Have McTwisp bring the Oraculum, please." The guard bowed and went to do the Queen's bidding.

The Queen took a deep breath. "First I will start by saying that Underland is not at all meant to be what you see before you now. The forests, up until recently, were lush and green. The gardens at Marmoreal were the best in all of Underland. But now it is dying; burnt by the blistering sun which rarely sets. It's been a full week since the last nightfall."

"Time, you see, is quite running amok."

She continued despite the skeptical expressions of her breakfast companions. "Our dear Hatter, well-intentioned, but not altogether sane, aroused time into a frenzy by demanding it reverse itself back to the day Alice left us. He planned to convince her to stay. But time would not do Tarrant's bidding and Tarrant tried to kill time in his despair. But he only succeeded in driving it into a rage. Since then time has been running inconsistently. Sometimes forwards, sometimes backwards, sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing, sometimes stopping completely. It is threatening to tear Underland apart."

At that moment an elderly rabbit in a waistcoat hopped slowly into the dining hall leaning heavily on a cane, carrying a large scroll. Now it was Tasha's turn to nearly pass out. What the hell kind of a place was this?

"Data. Do you see a rabbit in a vest carrying a cane and a scroll?" Tasha asked in a low voice.

"Yes."

"Thank God," Tasha breathed. "I thought _I'd_ gone insane."

"Here is the Oraculum, as you requested, Your Majesty," McTwisp said in a voice that wavered with age.

"Thank you, McTwisp, that will be all."

The rabbit hobbled off whatever other tasks awaited him.

"McTwisp is a case in point," said the Queen. "Normally beings in Underland do not age. Time runs in a circular pattern. But now that time has become linear, and inconsistent at that, some of us aged many years overnight. Others found themselves returned to infancy. Time visited that curse on the Hatter as well. When he came back from the Lair of Time, he was twenty years older than when he had left Marmoreal that morning."

The Queen spread out part of the scroll. "The Oraculum is a calendar. It shows every day from the beginning of Underland into forever," she explained. "Here," she pointed out, "Was the Frabjous day. The day the Champion Alice slew the Jabberwocky and brought peace to Underland." She unrolled the scroll further. "And this is Federbremse Day; the day that time began to run amok." She scrolled further still. "And here is Uhrturm Day. The day you, T'Lara, will subdue time and set Underland back to rights."

The picture on the scroll showed the exact likeness of T'Lara, sword raised, facing off against a creature that resembled a mix of a lion and an iguana gone horribly wrong. The beast was several times over her size, but she was portrayed standing her ground, sword at the ready.

T'Lara became more overwhelmed with each word. She was to slay a giant beast and save this woman's world? Besides being illogical in the extreme, it was impossible. Tasha, with her background as a warrior, or Data, with the speed and strength of an Android, stood a better chance. T'Lara abruptly stood up from the table, her face a stony mask. "Your Majesty, if you will excuse me, I believe I need some air." She walked out of the dining hall as fast as her legs could carry her, leaving three stunned tablemates behind.

Data was about to get up and go after her when he felt Tasha's hand on his own. "I'll go after her. I think she's feeling overwhelmed by all this."

The queen shook her head sadly. "I wish I had the time to slowly prepare her, but time is decidedly _not_ on our side."

Tasha followed T'Lara out into the hallway, and, imagining she had gone back to her room, headed upstairs. On the way to their quarters she spied a small balcony. T'Lara stood there, looking out over the decaying landscape.

"T'Lara?" Tasha queried.

"Sir. I apologize for my behavior. I am letting my emotions get the better of me."

"T'Lara, from what I can tell you've just been tasked with saving a world," the Security Chief said in her most empathetic tone. "You're overwhelmed."

"It is not merely that," T'Lara continued. "I feel … not myself. Ever since yesterday when the Hatter touched my mind. I feel … I fear I cannot put it into words you would understand."

"You feel out of control," Tasha guessed.

"Yes," T'Lara answered. "I believe that is one way of putting it."

Tasha smiled, leaning back against the balcony railing. "I used to be obsessed with control. With never letting anyone see my weaknesses, never letting anyone in to see who I really was."

T'Lara was intrigued. "And what changed?"

"Time. Work. Working on a starship and relying on hundreds of people to do their jobs correctly tends to teach you how very little you can _actually_ control," She said wryly. "And relationships taught me that sometimes I have to give up some control to really experience life, and that sometimes you need to rely on someone else to fill the spaces where you're lacking." The security chief glanced back toward the dining hall.

"The Lieutenant Commander." T'Lara stated.

Tasha smiled wryly. "Now if you said that a year or so ago I would have gotten all red-faced and defensive."

T'Lara blushed slightly green herself. She statement had been inappropriately personal. She opened her mouth to apologize.

Yar waved her off with an amused expression. "I know the ship's rumor mill. Wouldn't be much of a security chief if I didn't. The point is that if the me from years ago could see the me of today, she'd probably have a coronary." Her face turned serious. "What I mean to say is that you don't know what you're capable of doing until you step up and try. And if it gets to be too much, ask for help. Data and I will back you to the hilt, make no mistake about that."

T'Lara couldn't help but think that the Lieutenant Commander's subordinates were lucky to have such a person serving over them. "Thank you," the Vulcan replied with a very small, but grateful smile.

The security chief grinned. "Tasha," she corrected, much to the younger officer's surprise. "I refuse to discuss my lovelife with someone who refers to me by rank."

T'Lara did indeed blush green this time.

Tasha faught back a chuckle. "We should probably get back before Data starts scouring the castle looking for us."

A clearing of the throat came from the doorway to the balcony, startling both women.

Tarrant Hightopp, a.k.a. the Mad Hatter, stood in the archway. "I would like to speak privately to Miss ... T'Lara."

Tasha went from kindly to prickly in 0.5 seconds. "That's Lieutenant T'Lara, and you'll forgive me if I say no. Last time you spoke to her she ended up unconscious."

"I wish to make my apologies," he explained.

"It is fine, Comman- ... Tasha," T'Lara assured her. For some reason she didn't find the man iminently threatening. She should probably be more wary of him given the instability she had seen in his mind.

"You sure?" Tasha asked warily.

T'Lara nodded. "I will be in soon."

So Tasha walked past Tarrant, giving him a look that implied violence were anything untoward to occur. The security chief headed back to the dining hall.

Tarrant kept a respectful distance from T'Lara. He took off his hat and held it in his bandaged hands. "I wish to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I had mistaken you for someone else."

"For Alice," T'Lara stated.

Tarrant winced at the name, and T'Lara instantly regretted saying it. She had seen inside this poor, damaged soul; had seen his great gaping emptiness. She held nothing but sympathy for him.

"You look so much like her. For a moment I thought … but no. Are you perhaps related to her?" he asked.

"It is doubtful," T'Lara said. "What was her full name?"

"Alice Kingsley."

T'Lara's eyes widened. "My father's surname name was Kingsley. My full name is T'Lara Kingsley."

The Hatter smiled weakly. "I see. So you are related to her. No wonder she never came back. She probably married and bore children. Perhaps you are one of her descendents." His expression drew painfully tight.

"I … I do not know what to say," T'Lara said honestly.

Tarrant shook his head. "You needn't say anything." He paused for a moment, looking uneasy. "I don't wish to be rude, but your ears, your skin color …"

T'Lara found nothing rude in the innocent query. "I am only half human. My mother is Vulcan. All Vulcans have these. We are also touch-telepaths. That is why when you touched me … well, the sensations were overwhelming."

"Touch-telepaths?"

"When we touch a person, especially at certain points on the body, we can read their thoughts," she explained.

"Oh! No wonder you fainted." Tarrant tapped his head with his finger. "It's no fun in here. I'm 'round the bend, you see."

"You are full of pain, guilt, anger, loss … loneliness," T'Lara remembered how each of those feelings had felt as they coursed from his body into hers.

"Well," Tarrant said awkwardly. "Like I said, my head is not a pretty place. Again, I apologize for my intrusiveness yesterday. You weren't meant to experience that."

"Apology accepted," T'Lara replied.

"Thank you." He put his hat back on. "Well, goodbye, T'Lara Kingsley."

"Goodbye, Tarrant Hightopp." T'Lara watched him disappear through the balcony archway.

She stood on the balcony a few moments more, staring at the place where Tarrant had stood. She was forced to wonder how it was that a single creature could carry such pain and grief inside him. Something about him wrapped itself around her heart, and refused to let go.


	5. Chapter 4

Return of a Champion (Chapter 4)  
Author: **akainagi** (conceptual credit to **chrismata1976**)  
Rating: PG-13  
Genre: Star Trek: The Next Generation/Alice in Wonderland crossover  
Pairings: Tarrant/T'Lara, Data/Tasha  
Summary: Centuries later, the direct descendent of Alice Kingsley, now serving on the USS Enterprise, is called on to aid Underland. Unfortunately, a few other people get sucked along for the ride.

With all three Starfleet officers again seated around the queen, the discussion of the coming Uhrturm Day resumed. T'Lara did her best to reason with the monarch. "To be perfectly frank, your majesty, I do not have the training nor the ability to slay anything, much less a fearsome beast. I am an engineer, a scientist. A better choice would be Lieutenant Commander Yar, who is trained in combat."

Tasha looked first at T'Lara, then the Queen. "If it would help Underland and get Q to send us back home, I will take on Time in T'Lara's place."

The Queen shook her head, and presented the Oraculum so all three could get a good look at it. "The Champion portrayed in the Oraculum is T'Lara. There is only one person in all the worlds capable of subduing time and returning Underland to its former state. I'm afraid no substitution would be accepted. Q did well to find you as quickly as he did."

Tasha looked at the sharply Queen, her gaze immediately suspicious. "How do you know Q?"

The Queen smiled indulgently. Yar found the expression a little irritating. "In the past, Q has been a frequent visitor to Underland," the queen explained. "He has stayed at the palace on occasion, so when we asked for his help in finding our Champion, he agreed. And he did indeed deliver the Champion as promised."

T'Lara was growing more than a little frustrated. "But I have not the skill for such a task, do you not understand?"

"My guards can train you in the art of the sword. Four days from now is Uhrturm Day, when Time must be subdued or the chance lost forever. And if the chance is lost," the Queen said solemnly, "Underland will fall. You have four days to train and prepare yourself before the fated day. We will do everything in our power to ensure your success." The Queen's eyes looked meaningfully into T'Lara's own. "But, in the end, the choice to fight is yours."

T'Lara looked to Data. He was her commanding officer. If it was his will that she fight, she would do so as part of her duty as a Starfleet officer. Data noted T'Lara's gaze resting on him, looking for a cue.

Data addressed the Queen. "If we may discuss this amongst ourselves, your majesty."

The Queen rose. "Of Course. It is not a decision to be made lightly, but I needn't remind you that _time_ is an issue. You shall find me in the throne room when you have decided." The sovereign's face was a blank mask. Clearly she was trying not to convey how badly she wanted – needed – T'Lara's help. The Queen departed the dining hall, her skirts billowing gracefully about her ankles as she walked.

Now that they were alone, Data addressed his subordinate. "Lieutenant," he began. "This situation may well fall beyond the scope of your duties as a Starfleet Officer. The choice to take on such a dangerous dangerous task is your own. I will neither order you to fight nor forbid you from doing so, although completing this task may be the only way Q will return us to the Enterprise."

Yar shot the Second Officer a glare that went unnoticed by the Vulcan. For her part, T'Lara tried to counter the maelstrom of anxiety inside her with cold Vulcan logic. She had no explanation as to why she was the one chosen by these people to be their Champion. But the minute she had seen her exact likeness on the faded parchment of the Oraculum, she knew that arguing against her role was futile. When one has exhausted all logical explanations, then the remaining explanation, no matter how illogical, must be the answer. She was the one chosen to save this land and her people. The Lietenant Commander's blunt wording had been accurate; battling Time was most likely the only hope the Starfleet officers had of being returned to the Enterprise.

"I shall undertake the task," T'Lara declared, her voice full of a resolve she was nowhere near feeling.

Data did not insult her by asking if she was sure, and Tasha merely looked on with concern.

The Queen received the news with visible relief. Then she set about to a flurry activity that made her resemble a force of nature rather than a sovereign. She called upon the court smith to have armor and a blade made to suit T'Lara's exact needs. T'Lara's measurements were taken, she was tried with several blades until coming upon an exact weight, style and alloy that fit her strength and the task at hand. Then the queen herself whisked the Champion away to introduce her to the Captain of the Queen's personal guard.

The Captain was a tall, lanky young man who looked barely out of his teens. Hardly the figure one would expect from a Captain of the guards. It wasn't until he explained to T'Lara that he too had been afflicted by time's rampage that she understood. He was actually, he explained to her, the grandfather of two strapping boys who were training to be guards themselves. He went to bed one night a middle-aged man and awoke practically an adolescent again.

They set up practice in the courtyard of the palace, with Data and Tasha looking on. The weight of the sword felt comfortable in T'Lara's hand, like she had used one before, although she knew that never in her life had she done so.

The captain taught her the basics: the proper stance, how to thrust at her opponent without overextending herself and exposing herself to counterattack. After she mastered the sword, he explained, she would be given a shield and taught to defend as well as attack. T'Lara had always been a quick study. Her half-vulcan physique, plus the training all vulcan youths, male or female, recieved in self-defense were to her benefit. Soon the two were facing off against each other in mock battle.

Despite all her Vulcan training, despite her ingrained controls, T'Lara felt the exhilaration of the moment. Her senses were heightened. The clanging of swords was like thunder in her ears. The weight of the sword in her hand was like an extension of her person. She could smell the musky scent of perspiration coming from her opponent. Probably for the first time in her life, T'Lara truly realized the necessity of the teachings of Surak; the subjugation of base instinct to order and logic. Without those controls, how easy would it be easy to lose oneself in the exhilaration of conflict?

By the end of the day's training both parties were breathing hard, perspiration standing out even on T'Lara's forehead. In all honesty, the half-Vulcan was reluctant to stop. To her shame she found that the match had not merely exhilarated her, but she had found it … arousing. The feeling was foreign to her, having yet to experience her first Pon Farr. She was decades too early to for her first mating season. Although if the only other Vulcan/Human hybrid in existence was any indication, such timetables could not be counted on.

Clamping down on her urges with every control at her disposal allowed her to make it though the rest of the day until she could meditate properly. She could tell that her silence at the evening meal had concerned Tasha. If Lieutenant Commander Data had noticed, he didn't let on. The security chief pulled T'Lara aside after the meal and asked her if anything was wrong. Besides the obvious, Tasha had added with a wry smile.

By rights she should inform her superiors of the nebulous concerns that were beginning to form in her mind. If what she suspected was true, it could jeopardize the success of this mission, as well as the safety of all concerned. But she was reluctant to air her concerns until she had something other to go on than vague, fleeting feelings and urges. So she sincerely thanked the other woman for her concern, but stated it was nothing. To her credit as a security officer, Tasha had looked unconvinced. She was trained to observe, especially for falsehoods.

T'Lara regretted having to lie to someone she considered, if not a friend, then at least a valued comrade.

The processed the evenings events, and the accompanying emotions and she flowed through the upper levels of meditation. She had experienced few meaningful friendships in her life, her childhood on Vulcan being largely filled with conflict. She had always been apart from her peers. On Vulcan, on Earth, in Starfleet. Such was the lot of an interspecies individual such as herself. She had never wanted to be Vulcan, never wanted to be human. She was neither of these things, yet a combination of both. She had spend much of her life floating anchorlessly between both spheres.

Underland, however, with its bizarre creatures and people, seemed oddly familiar and comforting to her. Perhaps because she had visited it so often in dreams. Even in her meditations, she tried to visualize the red sands of Vulcan, but the barren landscape of Underland appeared in its place.

Abandoning her meditations, she opted for sleep instead. After long day full of hard physical labor, sleep came easily. And as she drifted off a final thought passed through her mind. On the Enterprise she had dreamed of Underland. Now that she was here in Underland, what would she dream of now?

~*~*~*~

To say that Tasha was concerned for T'Lara's well-being was an understatement.

It went against her nature, not to mention her position as security chief, to allow someone like T'Lara to go up against such a fearsome beast alone. As she had watched the woman train today it had truly sunk in. T'Lara, with only her Starfleet standard combat training, plus whatever could be drilled in over the next few days, would be expected to go up against Time and win.

Tasha was a protector by her nature. Deanna Troi had told her once that it was her way of expressing care of those around her without the messiness and risk and emotional vulnerability of developing relationships. Damned psychobabble.

There was nothing she wished for more than to be able to take T'Lara's place. But in this one instance, she was helpless, and it pissed her off no end.

She expressed as much to Data that evening in the privacy of his room, not that she expected him to do anything about it. Nothing really could be done. But simply because she always felt better after bouncing her frustrations off his impartial ear.

"Your frustration at our current predicament is understandable," he told her. "I would rather either one of us undertake the task, but that appears impossible given the situation."

Tasha let out a curse that conveyed exactly what she thought of said situation. "She may have the strength of a vulcan, but the woman never held a sword in her life until today. And a few days from now she's going to have to go up against a beast twenty times her size. I think the Queen's being just a little unreasonable in her expectations."

"The Queen believes she is fulfilling prophecy," Data countered evenly. "She believes this course of action will benefit her land and her people. Her expectations may not be reasonable, but from her point of view, they are quite understandable."

She scowled. "Dammit, Data who's side are you on, anyway?"

He looked at her as implacably as always. "The side that allows us all to return to the Enterprise alive."

Tasha's anger deflated, replaced by a roiling sense of frustration. She could hardly argue with Data's logic. But it sill rankled her to see his serene expression when her own insides were in knots. Intellectually, she knew was overtired and stressed, and was taking it out on the wrong person.

It was time for her to call it a night before she said something she might regret. "You're right, as usual," she admitted, her tone only slightly snappish. "I'm going to bed."

"Tasha?" Data called after her.

She paused at the door, not even turning around. "Hmmm?"

"Sleep well," he said.

Tasha winced inwardly and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

The heat was overpowering, it felt like she was burning from the inside out. Her blood was on fire, her mind stripped of any semblance of logic.

She searched mindlessly, through unfamiliar corridors, not thinking, merely feeling her way.

He was here. She could feel him. The one who would be hers. She could feel him calling to her. He was lost in his own madness, as surely she was lost in hers. She stumbled down the corridor, going from door to door, each of them yielding nothing. He was here, but where? Her blood sang for the release only he could provide. With each step she took, the lure of his mind calling out to her grew stronger.

Finally, at the last door, she found him, and they sank together to the floor, hands on each other, grappling with clothing and buttons and fasteners and finally simply ripping the impediment away in their desperation to get to each other and find fulfillment. And as their bodies became one so did their minds. And what she found was madness. Not the madness of the blood fever, but true madness. The madness of hundreds of years of grief and suffering and loss and anger. A madness that screamed its pain to the world silently, every day, for hundreds of years.

The kind of madness that could not be cured.

T'Lara awoke with a primal scream. Her heart racing, she was forced to acknowledge what she had thus far suspected but now knew for sure. It was her time. It was too early, but it was her time. Pon Farr had come upon her in the middle of a strange land, far from the sands of her homeland.

Their mission, already difficult, just got a lot more complicated.


	6. Chapter 5

**Return of a Champion (Chapter 5)**  
Author: **akainagi** (conceptual credit to **chrismata1976**)  
Rating: PG-13  
Genre: Star Trek: The Next Generation/Alice in Wonderland crossover  
Pairings: Tarrant/T'Lara, Data/Tasha  
Summary: Centuries later, the direct descendent of Alice Kingsley, now serving on the USS Enterprise, is called on to aid Underland. Unfortunately, a few other people get sucked along for the ride.

T'Lara was not so lucky that her scream had gone unnoticed by Lieutenant Commander Data. The android, merely one room over, was roused half-Vulcan's cry of alarm. He quickly made his way to the hallway.

"T'Lara?" he called through the door.

"I am fine. There is no need for alarm, sir."

The voice sounded strangled and breathless to his sensitive android ears. "Lieutenant. Please open the door," he ordered.

A moment passed and the door cracked open. T'Lara's face appeared into view. "Lieutenant Commander. I apologize for having disturbed you. I had a dream that was most … unpleasant. That was the cause of my distress. Nothing more."

Data performed a cursory scan. T'Lara's body temperature, pulse and respirations were all elevated well above the norm. Not incongruous with an adrenaline response caused by a nightmare. For now, he would shelve his suspicions and respect the Lieutenant's privacy. "If you are sure you are well."

"Please Lieutenant Commander. Do not trouble yourself further. Now if you will excuse me, I must engage in meditation," T'Lara said.

"Very well," the android acquiesced. "Good night, Lieutenant."

Data returned to his own room, filing away the disturbing incident for further examination in the morning.

Data was greeted first thing in the morning by a knock on his door. Tasha appeared, dressed in a pale blue tunic that complimented her eyes, and a pair of leggings. Her appearance was quite aesthetically pleasing.

He was about to tell her as much when he found himself being thoroughly kissed. Recovering from his surprise, he returned the kiss, cataloguing each pleasant sensation it created.

"'Morning," she said smoothly. She smoothed out the front of his shirt where she had just wrinkled it. "Sorry I was such a bitch last night."

Apologies had never come easy to Tasha Yar. "The situation is difficult," he acknowledged before returning to the infinitely safer waters of generic pleasantries. "Did you sleep well?" Data inquired.

"Interesting dreams," she replied, seemingly fascinated by the buttons on his shirt.

"Intriguing. Lieutenant T'Lara also reported having nightmares last night."

Tasha smiled mischievously. "Oh, they weren't nightmares. Quite the opposite. In fact they're probably the reason I feel like having you for breakfast this morning."

"Ah, dreams of a sexual nature, you mean," he said bluntly. "You will remember that we agreed that sexual congress on away missions-"

"I know, I know," Tasha interrupted. She grinned. "Didn't say anything about a good snog, though."

"… Snog?..." Data accessed his vast store of human colloquial expressions. "Ah! Kissing, smooching, tonsil-hockey –"

Tasha laughed. "How about all of the above?" She leaned in to kiss him again when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

T'Lara showed no signs of the previous night's turmoil. She entered the room dressed appropriately for a day of sword practice; plain slacks and a short-sleeved blouse that would not cause her undue stress in the summer heat. Calm and collected, she greeted her superiors by rank. If she had any idea that anything untoward had been going on before her arrival, she was far too polite to mention it. Data studied her carefully for any signs of last night's symptoms, and found none. The meditation, a powerful tool in the hands of a Vulcan, had apparently been effective.

After breakfast, the training reconvened in earnest. After a few words of encouragement from Yar, T'Lara again squared off with the young captain of the guards. The more advanced the swordplay became, the more aware T'Lara became that the captain was holding back for her benefit. Were he to go all-out, she would be defeated in short order.

Three days. They had three days before she had to fight the beast called Time and win. It seemed an impossible thing; a task now made even more impossible by the fact that her mind was no longer focused. The adrenaline of fighting, the heat and smell of the male sweat coming from her opponent. All were powerful triggers that taunted to her. She was fighting a battle on two fronts. One with the Captain of the Guards, and one inside her own mind. Her Vulcan training strained to keep the urges of the mating drive in check.

Just when she was about to request a reprive, the Captain announced they would break for the midday meal. It was none too soon. T'Lara's blood was fairly singing with the call of her ancestors. It was a powerful call to mate, to meld, to find a male and bind herself to him.

Flushing green and breathing heavy, T'Lara announced to Data and Tasha that she was going to walk about the gardens briefly, and then she would get something to eat. She needed to cool down, she explained, which was not a total lie. She promised to meet the two officers in the dining hall shortly. She fairly ran for the solitude of the gardens.

But fate, if she believed in such a thing, had far too much of a sense of humor to allow her to unwind in peace.

Tarrant Hightopp stood in the middle of the garden, staring at the roses with a melancholy look on his face. T'Lara quickly turned to flee before she was seen, but she was too late.

"Lady T'Lara?" the Hatter inquired of her retreating back.

She froze. Just the sound of his voice triggered in her unwelcome longings. "Mister Hatter," she choked out without turning around.

"Lady T'Lara, are you entirely well?" Tarrant asked with concern.

_I'll be fine if you just stay away_, T'Lara thought desperately.

The hand on her shoulder was such an innocent touch, a gesture of concern. But her blood, already superheated, became inflamed at the raw, male, emotional presence.

She whirled around and grabbed the Hatter roughly by the collar. With superhuman strength she hauled him in, his face scant inches from her own. What she wouldn't give to throw him down and claim his body and mind for her own. To mate with him, _bind_with him. It would be so easy to claim him. He was no match for her in strength. His pheromones were like a drug. He was attracted to her, she could tell. They would both get what they want.

Her conscious mind screamed in protest. _He wants the one named Alice, not you. He sees her in you._

Stopping herself took more strength than she knew she possessed. Their lips were so close she could feel their breath intermingling. With the last of her reserves she pushed him away so roughly his hat fell off. "Stay away from me!" she hissed. And she fled to the palace, leaving a shell-shocked Tarrant behind her.

By the time she reached the dining hall, she had gotten herself relatively under control. Data and Tasha had already finished their modest repast. T'Lara poured herself a cup of tea, finding the aroma and flavor soothing to the nerves. The bowl of soup that had been set out for her was now far from hot, but she attempted to eat it anyway. She forced down as much as she could tolerate, even though she hadn't the stomach for it. She would need strength of mind and body to make it through the next few days without succumbing to the blood fever. She was infinitely thankful that Data was an android and therefore exerted no pull on her sexually. Were that not the case she would have another set of problems on her already full hands.

She ate slowly, using the delay to practice her mind control techniques. But even as she ate she could feel Lieutenant Commander Data's regard. He knew something was amiss. He could no doubt read the changes in vital signs that went with the onset of Pon Farr. T'Lara feared it was only a matter of time before she was found out.

When the three returned to the courtyard they found the Captain already waiting and looking more than a little peeved at their tardiness. T'Lara apologized and assumed a fighting stance, her sword at the ready.

The Captain made the first move, which she countered easily, parrying and stepping away to the side. She was trying to keep as much distance between them as possible; trying to keep his male presence at arm's length. The captain criticized her harshly, telling her to attack.

"It is not enough to defend. Your goal is to defeat your enemy! Now have at me!" he barked.

T'Lara complied, swinging her sword in a wide arc which was easily parried.

"Again!" the Captain ordered.

So she came at him again. And then again. Each time growing bolder in her attacks. Each attack bringing her closer to her opponent.

She could feel it building inside her. The sweat and exertion, the smell of pheromones and adrenaline filled her sensitive nostrils. Her blood was up; ordering her to subdue and to be subdued. To defeat and be deafeated. To subjugate and be conqueredy a worthy body and mind. Their swords locked together, pressed between them. In this moment, they were equally matched. T'Lara's eyes blazed with the thrill of combat and the raging _need_ that coursed through her veins. Taking a leg and hooking it around the Captain's, she unbalanced him, sending him toppling backwards. Caught off guard, he was easily divested of his weapon. Both swords came clattering to the ground, forgotten by T'Lara, who had finally lost her long internal battle. As the Captain landed on his back, she allowed herself to fall with him.

There, on the stone of the courtyard, she straddled the terrified young man. The smell of his fear was like an aphrodisiac to T'Lara. Her lips fell on his in a bruising kiss, her hands grappled with his clothing, ripping his shirt away. Dimly, from far away, she could hear her name being called. Only a fool dared to interrupt her mating, she thought as she struggled with the Captain's remaining clothing.

Suddenly she was being lifted by strong arms, tearing her away from her intended mate. She screamed and thrashed like an untamed beast. Her blood was boiling. She felt filled with liquid fire. She struggled in the strong grasp.

"Lieutenant!" Data barked as he tried to contain the violent female. "Lieutenant!" Data turned her around, and with superhuman speed, and with a carefully calculated amount of force, he slapped his subordinate hard across the face.

T'Lara stopped her thrashing abruptly. Staring at Data in horror, in full awareness of what she had done and what she had _almost_ done, she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came.

Filled to the brim, nay, overflowing with mortification, T'Lara fled the courtyard, seeking out the solitude of her room. She ran as fast as she could. All of her controls had fled. Tears of shame flowed down her face. She could hear Data and Tasha hot on her heels, calling to her, but still she ran from the scene of her disgrace.

None of them noted the lone figure on the balcony above the courtyard, whose watchful green eyes had seen everything.

"Why did you not tell me this last night?" Data asked. To someone other than Tasha his voice sounded calm and controlled. Tasha, however, who knew him better than anyone, could detect the undercurrent of frustration.

T'Lara, who struggled to get the trembling of her hands under control, was brutally honest. "Shame," she replied. "Vulcans have been trained from birth that one does not speak of such things. It is seldom spoken of among our people, and never to alien races." She stared down at her clenched fists, her humiliation too great to look the second officer in the eyes. "I had hoped to control it with meditation, but I fear that is no longer an option."

"As your commanding officer, it is vital that I know if one of my team members is compromised in any way. You are faced with a potentially fatal condition, Lieutenant."

Steeling herself, T'Lara looked him square in the face. "I apologize, Sir. It was not my intent to deceive, or to jeopardize the mission." She shook her head. "This should not be happening now. I must conclude that the early onset of Pon Farr is a result of my own hybrid physiology, and of Underland's temporal disturbances."

"However it has come about," the android explained, "It is clear you are in no condition to do battle. Either the Lieutenant Commander or myself must take your place."

"That is not an option, sir, as you well know," T'Lara replied coldly. "According to Q, the Queen, and thousand-year-old-prophecies, I must battle Time in order for us to complete our mission and be returned to the Enterprise."

Tasha could hold her tongue no longer. "T'Lara, no offense intended, but you can't even train without losing control." The security chief's voice lowered slightly. "There's no shame in surrender when there's no hope of winning. You've done your best."

"The solution to the training problem is a simple one," T'Lara answered. "I will train with a female guard. According to the Captain of the Guards, there are female soldiers among their ranks."

Data still refused to be convinced. "That still does not change the fact that you are suffering from a progressively degenerative condition. Without mating or purging yourself of the need to mate, you will die."

The words were all the more difficult to swallow for their truthfulness. "The blood fever has only just come upon me," T'Lara explained. "I will survive the three days necessary to complete the mission. Once we return to the Enterprise, with Dr. Crusher's intervention, I will survive."

"But will you be in good enough shape to fight Time and win?" Tasha questioned.

"I must," T'Lara answered matter-of-factly. One another person it might have come across as bravado, but from T'Lara it was merely a quiet resignation. The half-vulcan looked to her two superior officers. "To fail is not an option," she stated.

Neither Data nor Tasha had a counter for that one. For it was the truth.


	7. Chapter6

**Return of a Champion (Chapter 6)**  
Author: **akainagi** (conceptual credit to **chrismata1976**)  
Rating: PG-13  
Genre: Star Trek: The Next Generation/Alice in Wonderland crossover  
Pairings: Tarrant/T'Lara, Data/Tasha  
Summary: Centuries later, the direct descendent of Alice Kingsley, now serving on the USS Enterprise, is called on to aid Underland. Unfortunately, a few other people get sucked along for the ride.

After the humiliating and unsettling events of earlier in the day, T'Lara would have liked to spend the rest of her day in meditation, trying to reestablish her mental controls.

But Time was something of an issue.

That was how she found herself in the midafternoon sun, facing off against the finest female guard Marmoreal's military had to offer.

The woman was tall, appeared only slightly older than her predecessor had been, with a square jaw and heavy brow which gave her an intimidating look. Not an unhandsome woman, she wore her mid-length hair in a tight braid.

T'Lara felt immediate hostility towards her.

They squared off with swords at the ready. T'Lara didn't even wait for the command to start. She took an immediate swing at her opponent. The guard was caught by surprise, but quickly recovered, parrying the attack and countering with one of her own.

T'Lara again felt the exhilaration of battle. Her senses were razor-sharp. The desire to beat this woman, to assert her superiority, her worthiness, was overwhelmingly strong.

She tried to reign in her enthusiasm. That, too, was part of the Pon Farr. Hostility towards unbonded females. Females who were a threat to her. Females who might compete for a potential mate's favor. Being so early into the blood fever, T'Lara had not expected this urge to be so strong.

But it was.

If she just gave into her desires, she would win easily, she was sure. She had superior strength, superior speed. And the guard would not be expecting an all out attack during a practice session. She could catch her unawares and take her head. She _would_ - prove herself the superior female. The superior mate.

Her sword picked up speed, parrying and thrusting, varying her attacks to unbalance her opponent. And when her sword drew first blood, nicking the back of her opponent's hand, T'Lara's blood sang with call of her ancestors.

The guard was on her heels; tried to concede defeat. As if T'Lara would allow a ptential rival to live. How illogical that would be. She was faintly aware that Data was ordering her to stop, calling her name. But she had her rival on her knees now; all that was left was to take her life. She hefted her sword to bring down the final blow, when, in a repeat of earlier events, a pair of strong arms restrained her. Attempting to wrest the sword out of T'Lara's hand proved difficult without breaking the delicate bones of her wrist with his android strength. Finally, after sustaining a thankfully superficial, but sizeable cut to his own arm, he managed to pry her fingers off the weapon. It clattered to the ground.

"Stop, Lieutenant!" Data ordered.

"Unhand me!" T'Lara growled. She struggled violently, thrashing her arms and legs.

Fearing she would hurt herself in her violent struggle, Data opted for the most expedient solution to the problem at hand. Applying pressure to the precise points on T'Lara's neck, her struggles immediately ceased and she slumped in the android's arms, a victim of the Vulcan neck pinch technique.

The horrified guard was clearly uninjured, for she took off at a run, no doubt to report the unfortunate incident to her captain.

Data picked up the unconscious T'Lara, intending to take her back to her room to sleep off the neck pinch.

"Data!" Tasha exclaimed, "You're hurt." She gave a cursory examination to his right arm where the skin had been sheared off, revealing the mechanical workings underneath.

"It is superficial," Data assured her. "I shall bandage it later. At present we must get T'Lara back to her room."

Tasha nodded and followed. They were nearly back to their quarters when the hammer came down.

"What hae ye done ta her, ye beast!" Tarrant hollered in a rough Outlandish brogue as he blocked their progress.

Data's face remained impassive. "She is unharmed, Mister Hightopp. Lieutenant T'Lara is merely unconscious. It was necessary to prevent even more severe injury. Now, please let us pass so we may return her to her room."

Tarrant, as concerned as he was for T'Lara, was momentarily distracted by the sight of Data's arm, the blinking of optics and circuits clearly visible. "What is tha'? What the hell are 'ye, some kinda demon?"

"I will answer your questions at a later time," Data replied coldly. "But for now let us pass."

Tasha did not have Data's patience. She stepped up and deftly grabbed Tarrant's arm, twisting it behind him and slamming him up against the wall, clearing the corridor for Data and T'Lara's passage. "Sorry, Mister Hatter, but we're in a bit of a hurry." She didn't sound the least bit sorry.

The trio headed for T'Lara's room, leaving the shocked and infuriated Hatter standing in the hallway, watching their departure.

Having reached their destination, Data lay the Vulcan woman's limp body on the bed. He studied her form, scanning her briefly. Her vital signs were normalizing, but they were on the high side, even for a Vulcan. Pon Farr was exerting a tremendous strain on her system.

"How is she?" Tasha asked. The concern was clear in her voice.

"She should wake soon," Data replied. "But Pon Farr is taxing all her body systems. Either her body or her sanity may fail before the battle on Uhrturm Day. And it has clearly been proven that she cannot train."

"I'll train her," Tasha offered immediately. I'm not the best with a broadsword, but I know the basics."

"No," Data answered. "It is too risky. She views all females as threatening. She may try to kill you."

"She views _unattached_ females as a threat. And she's never given any indication she feels threatened by me. Probably because of my relationship with you. She figures I'm taken."

Data was unconvinced. "It is still risky."

"I know," Tasha admitted. "But T'Lara's taking the biggest risk of all. She's the one who has to go into battle. I promised her that we'd back her to the hilt. I'm not going to renege on that promise now. I'll train her."

A moment passed while they regarded each other over the still form of T'Lara. Data was looking for solid reason to refuse his lover's request. Tasha was mentally drafting counterarguments.

Then both parties were granted a reprieve. The knock on the door startled Tasha, who looked to the door and then back to Data. "Three guesses who that is," she said dryly.

Data went to the door and opened it slightly. Tarrant stood on the other side of the door, hat in hand, his anger apparently had dissipated.

"Lieutenant T'Lara is still sleeping," Data informed the anxious man.

"Then I will wait until she wakes," Tarrant countered.

"Mister Hightopp, the Lieutenant is not in any condition to receive visitors, please come back at a later time," Data said brusquely, and shut the door in the man's face.

Tasha smiled. "Well, he's persistent, anyway."

"He sees his Alice in me," interjected a voice from the bed.

"T'Lara!" Tasha exclaimed. She approached the woman's bedside. "How do you feel?"

"Ashamed that once again I have allowed my personal flaws to affect my mission. I nearly killed that woman. It is inexcusable," T'Lara couldn't bring herself to look Tasha straight in the eye.

"Pon Farr would hardly be considered a personal flaw," Data said. "It is a fact of biology; one that you need not be ashamed of. I should have considered the ramifications of having you fight a female. The blame lies partly on my shoulders."

"Whoa," Tasha interrupted. "There's no blame on anyone's shoulders. Everyone came out okay. No harm, no foul."

T'Lara sat up slowly. She gestured to Data's injured arm. "There is the harm. I apologize, sir."

"It is not significant," Data assured her. "Given what you have been through today, I believe you should rest. Tasha will resume your training tomorrow. We had theorized that you do not view her as a threat. Is this the case?"

"Of course," T'Lara replied. "She is already mated."

Tasha turned slightly pink and cleared her throat. "As you noticed, the Hatter is waiting outside to see you."

T'Lara thought for a moment. She had treated him rudely earlier. She should like the chance to apologize.

"I advise against it," Data said. "Being male, he could trigger the Pon Farr to progress."

"Then will you give him a message for me?" T'Lara asked. "Tell him I apologize for my behavior earlier today in the garden. And tell him thank you for his concern."

Tasha smiled. "I'll tell him."

"Thank you."

"Rest well," Tasha said as she and Data departed.

Tasha addressed the Hatter, who was still loitering in the hallway. "I'm sorry, but you can't see T'Lara right now."

"Is she not well?" Tarrant asked with alarm, looking from her to Data and back again.

"She just needs rest," Tasha answered. "She told me to say that she's sorry for her rudeness in the garden, and that she thanks you for your concern."

Tarrant smiled slightly, despite his worry. "I see. Tell her I hope to see her soon."

Tasha nodded. The poor man was besotted, that was clear enough. Whether it was with Alice or T'Lara was anyone's guess.

Tasha thought of something. "You're a milliner, correct?"

"I am."

"Do you think you could provide me with a strip of cloth?" Tasha asked. "I need to bind Data's wound."

"Of course," Tarrant replied. "I'll bring one straightaway." He looked again at Data's arm, the mechanical inner workings on display for all to see. He opened his mouth to ask again –

"I am an android," Data volunteered, "a synthetic being."

"Synthetic?"

"Man-made," Data explained. "I was constructed from mechanical parts."

Tarrant's eyes widened with understanding. "You're like a doll come to life?"

Data nodded. "If you wish to look at it that way, I suppose that is one interpretation."

Tarrant gave him a final curious look, and then went to get the bandages. He returned within a few moments with a few strips of clean white cloth.

They thanked him and went into Data's room where Tasha took on the task of bandaging his exposed inner-workings. It would not do to have to explain Data's nature to everyone they met.

"Thank god she only shaved the skin off," Tasha said. "We've got no means of getting you repaired until this whole crappy ordeal is over."

Data didn't really know why he asked the question until it came out of his mouth. "Does it bother you to see me like this?"

Tasha looked at him like he had two heads. "Of course it bothers me. You're hurt! I'm just glad it wasn't worse."

"It does not bother you? The reminder that I am a machine?" he asked.

Tasha looked at him closely, her eyes narrowed. "Why a question like this all of a sudden? Why would it bother me? I know who you are and what you are. It's not like I pretend you're anything else. I happen to like what and who you are. I wouldn't have been sharing a bed with you for two years if you being an android bothered me. There." She had finished bandaging his arm. In the end, most of his forearm had to be wrapped.

"Why did you choose to stay in Underland? Q gave you the opportunity to go back to the Enterprise. Why did you not take it?" Data inquired.

Tasha's voice took on a peevish tone. "What the hell is this, twenty questions? I'm a Security Chief. I couldn't very well let my superior and a junior crewmember face an away mission in an unknown, possibly hostile environment without some kind of protection. Now if you're satisfied with my answers I'd like to get some rest of my own."

"Of course," Data replied. "Goodnight."

Tasha bid him goodnight in return. Her thought as she left his room was that she was a damned liar.


	8. Chapter 7

**Return of a Champion (Chapter 7)**  
Author: akainagi (conceptual credit to chrismata1976)  
Rating: NC-17 for serious pron-age  
Genre: Star Trek: The Next Generation/Alice in Wonderland crossover  
Pairings: Tarrant/T'Lara, Data/Tasha  
Summary: Centuries later, the direct descendent of Alice Kingsley, now serving on the USS Enterprise, is called on to aid Underland. Unfortunately, a few other people get sucked along for the ride.

Data lay in bed, at present eschewing sleep for introspection. What made him ask Tasha those questions? He was not a being given to impulsiveness in word or deed. Usually his thoughts traveled well-worn neural pathways, were processed and reprocessed before they were given form in speech.

Perhaps being called a demon and a living doll bothered him more than he had led himself to believe, that he would search for such reassurances from the one closest to him. He had thought himself beyond the point where he needed such reassurances.

But this was a first for him, after-all. A long-term sexual and domestic partnership was something he had never before embarked on, not before Tasha. He knew it was a first for her as well. She had told him her romantic history had consisted of relationships that had lasted months at most. Two beings with such a track record forging a two year relationship was against the odds to say the least.

And was it wishful thinking (something else he was not given to) that he had detected the telltale signs of falsehood in her answer to the last question. Elevated pulse, lack of eye contact, the slight change in pitch of her voice. And what had he hoped to hear, that she had stayed in Underland for him, rather than her duty?

A soft knock on the door disturbed his ruminations. It was just as well, as they were getting him nowhere. He was halfway to the door when Tasha entered of her own volition. Thanks to Underland's unfortunate curse of permanent daylight he could see clearly her disheveled state. The white cotton nightdress she wore clung to her breast from perspiration, her pupils were dilated, her respirations and pulse were elevated well above the norm. And she was looking at Data like she was contemplating having him for a midnight snack.

Data did not bother with formalities. "The dreams again?" he asked.

Tasha didn't bother to answer. "Data, you know our policy of not having sex on away missions?"

"Yes."

"Let's trash it," she said breathlessly.

"Tasha, "Data began, "I do not believe –"

He barely got out half the thought before he found himself kissed passionately and enthusiastically. It took nanoseconds for his mind to process that it was inadvisable to allow this to continue. It took several more nanoseconds for him to decide that he was going to proceed anyway.

He returned the kiss, meeting Tasha's enthusiasm with his own. He wrapped one arm around her waist, pressing her warm, willing, hyperaroused body against his own. His other hand came up to the back of her neck, bracing her as he increased the pressure of his lips against hers. His actions were clearly appreciated, for Tasha moaned her pleasure into his mouth.

Tasha broke the kiss abruptly. "If you're going to make me stop, do it now. 'Cause –"

By way of an answer Data took his lips and latched on to the sensitive peak of one breast through the thin, sweat-soaked nightdress.

Tasha let out a string of tender obscenities. She could be quite foul-mouthed during sex; one of the little idiosyncrasies Data had discovered about his lover over the years. He kept such knowledge close, finding pleasure in knowing a thousand little things about this woman that no one else knew.

Tasha began grappling at his clothing, annoyed by the fact that he was still fully dressed. "You, me, bed," she ordered.

They made their way to the thankfully spacious bed, kissing, caressing and shedding clothing as they went. The last thing to go was Tasha's nightdress. She unashamedly pulled it up and off, tossing it to the ground. Data took a moment to admire his lover in her natural state. Her pale skin, scarred in places, bespoke of her occupation and the violent manner in which she had spent her formative years. Data knew each scar, each line by heart.

Tasha gave him a gentle push and he allowed himself to fall back onto the bed. She was on him immediately. Kissing him and running her hands over his pale, cool skin. Data let his hands roam also, kneading her firm buttocks, cupping her breasts. He rolled sensitive nipples between his fingers, and was rewarded with a sigh of pleasure. Finally he moved his finger to the center of her desire, finding her folds swollen and wet and ready. He slipped a digit inside, and watched her face contort in pleasure.

There were few things Data enjoyed more than watching Tasha's reactions while they made love. To know that he could bring her such pleasure, to know that he and no one else was permitted to see this raw, vulnerable side of her, he could only liken the feeling he felt to exhilaration.

His lover was becoming impatient, and with a sigh of contentment and gratification, she took the initiative and lowered herself onto his waiting erection. Data watched a myriad of expressions cross her features as she undulated her hips, causing a delicious friction between them. She moved quickly, not interested in a slow, lazy lovemaking, but rather grappling frantically for the release she craved. Data reached between them and lightly manipulated the sensitive bud that lay between the folds of her sex.

Tasha let out a keening cry of pleasure, her pace quickening, and Data knew it wouldn't be long before her climax overtook her. Not satisfied with his passive role, Data began thrusting his hips upward, meeting her stroke for stroke.

"Fuck!" Tasha exclaimed, feeling her climax beginning to build, gathering like a time bomb of pleasure in her lower abdomen.

"I believe," Data said wryly, "That is what we are doing."

Even through her passion and the sex-induced haze, Tasha let out a short burst of laughter. Her hands roamed up Data's smooth chest to his neck, and then her fingertips came up to caress his face. Impulsively (he was doing that a lot lately), Data leaned his face into her hand, placing a kiss on her palm. The act was such a tender one, Tasha felt her heart would burst with affection for the man beneath her. Her eyes locked with his as their lower bodies continued their rhythmic dance. The gaze increased the intimacy of the act tenfold.

Tasha's rhythm began to falter as her climax approached. Data quickened the pace of his thrusts. He ground into her with a precisely calculated force, trying to reach as far into her depths as possible without hurting her. Finally, she let out a sharp cry as the tension inside her exploded outwards, sending her soaring with pleasure. She trembled with her release, but still she held his gaze. Data watched in amazement the expressions that crossed her face; the emotion that traveled to him through the window of her eyes.

She was beautiful.

As the last of her tremors subsided, she collapsed atop him, breathing heavy and with an expression of pure contentment. She sighed as he withdrew from her, allowing his erection to subside now that his lover was sated. There was the rustling of sheets and the rearranging of arms and legs and she was nestled beside him, enveloped in his arms.

They shared a few long, lingering kisses. "Gods, did I need that." Tasha said and she nestled closer to him

Data smiled, he enjoyed the aftermath of their lovemaking almost as much as he enjoyed the act itself. To see Tasha's contentment and fulfillment and to know that he had brought it about. That he relished.

But for Tasha's part, it was bittersweet, for she wished for nothing more than for Data to be able to take pleasure in their lovemaking also.

"Does it ever bother you?" Tasha asked suddenly. "Does it ever bother you that you can't feel the sensations that I feel."

"You mean when we engage in sexual congress?"

Tasha chuckled. "That's the most unromantic way I think I've ever heard it put, but yes, that's what I mean."

Data paused for a moment. "I should like to be able to experience it, yes. But it gives me pleasure to bring you pleasure. I find it most … fulfilling."

And then he followed it up with something so sweet it could cause cavities. Data never ceased to amaze her.

~*~*~*~*~

T'Lara felt like she was on fire. Her hypersensitive awareness had given her a front-row seat to the acts going on in the adjoining room. The emotions and sensations of the act of mating had been telegraphed to her via her heightened telepathic senses.

She was beyond help, beyond control now. Meditating was out of the question. The blood-fire was upon her, and nothing would satisfy it but to mate. To _Bind_.

She left her room, and found herself wandering the halls mindlessly. Every fiber of her being thrummed with awareness. He was here, somewhere. Her mate. The one who would release her from this torment. Her mindless wandering became not so mindless. She found herself at a set of stairs. She didn't question her instincts. She merely followed where they led. Up the stairs. To the left. Not that door. Nor the next.

Finally she found herself in front of the right door. She could smell him on the other side of the heavy wooden barrier. She could smell his _maleness_. She did not bother to knock, for in her current state she was beyond such things. She merely opened the door. It swung open easily.

The Hatter looked up from his work table. When he saw T'Lara he stood up so fast his chair fell over.

"Lady T'Lara!" he exclaimed at her disheveled appearance. She was covered in sweat and her damp nightgown was nearly transparent. Her eyes held the look of madness in them. "Lady T'Lara, you are unwell!"

T'Lara smiled a smile that was more frightening than friendly. "I am quite unwell, Mister Hatter," she admitted, advancing on the alarmed man. "But you can cure me."

"I can?" Tarrant swallowed loudly. "How can I help you?"

"Give yourself to me."

"Give … myself?" She couldn't mean what Tarrant thought she meant.

T'Lara's eyes gleamed in the harsh light streaming through the windows. "Mate with me," she ordered. She was close to him now. His scent filled her senses, intoxicating her further. "I will make it pleasurable for you."

Tarrant stood, shell-shocked, trying to find a response to such a demand. He did not think fast enough, however, for she was upon him, crushing his lips with her own. The kiss was all passion and violence. Tarrant instantly was assaulted by a blazing fire of desire, not from himself, but from T'Lara. The madness of the blood-fire, so similar to the madness that lay coiled in Tarrant's own mind, sent him reeling.

T'Lara held him immobile with one hand while the other sought out the points of the mind meld that would bind them together. She was so close. Her body screamed at her to do it, complete the meld. Bind. Mate. Take. Have.

Something in Tarrant snapped and he shoved her away roughly. It was true that he desired her. He couldn't deny that. But this was wrong. His own madness exploded over him.

"Are 'ye mad woman?" he roared, sweeping his arm across his worktable and sending everything flying. 'Ye must be for wantin' one such as me. D'ye not see I'm mad me'self. Y'say y'want me?" Tarrant cackled. "'Ye don' even know me!"

T'Lara backed away, the spell of her desire momentarily broken by her shock at the Hatter's unexpected behavior.

"An' I know nuthin' a ye'! 'Ye are nae even human! 'Ye think just 'cause 'ye look like me Alice I'll give meself to ye?" Tarrant let out another short bark of laughter. He advanced on T'Lara, who now wanted nothing more than to flee. He grabbed her by the front of her nightdress, hauling her up until her face was scant inches from his own. "'Ye are nae me Alice. Now get 'ye out o' me sight, 'afore I be forgettin' meself." Tarrant shoved her hard. She landed on the stone floor with a bone jarring thud. She stared up at Tarrant in horror.

Tarrant saw the raw fear in T'Lara's eyes. As suddenly as it had come on, his madness dissipated. What had he done? Visiting violence on and terrifying this mere slip of a woman.

"I …" Tarrant tried to find the words. "I'm sorry Lady T'Lara. But, you see, I am quite mad. So I suggest you look elsewhere for what you need. There are plenty of men in this court who would be glad to have you and who are not half-mad. I am."

T'Lara rose to her feet, attempting to collect herself. She trembled with the exertion of keeping her urges under control. A random thought appeared in her head at the Hatter's words. Before she could stop herself the words left her lips.

"All the best people are."

Tarrant's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Half-mad," T'Lara replied. "All the best people are half-mad."

A lump rose to Tarrant's throat. "What makes you say that?"

"I … I do not know," T'Lara answered. "Ever since I've come to Underland I have had these random thoughts and urges. Like I have been here before. Met you before. Met everyone before. Lived through this before. It is most … disturbing."

Tarrant stared at her so intently she felt like he could see right through her.

"I apologize for my actions, Mister Hightopp. I was … not myself. It shall not happen again," T'Lara turned to leave.

"Tarrant."

T'Lara paused at the door.

"Call me Tarrant."

For some reason, her heart ached at his words. "Goodnight, Tarrant."

And then she was gone.


End file.
